Break
by Kireteiru
Summary: Vampire!AU. Because sometimes simply defeating your opponent is not enough. Megatron x Optimus, non-explicit slash. Oneshot.


A/N: I don't own Transformers, but if I did, Elita would have died, and the whole damn thing would be rated NC-17.

Warnings: hinted non-con, implied torture/dub-con/enslavement. Oh, and slash. Non-explicit spark-smexing.

* * *

_The whole of the planet was lit with an eerie red glow from its dying sun, the terrible machine hidden beneath the Great Pyramid sucking its power and creating Energon for the dark creatures perched on and around it. Now that it no longer needed the Matrix, their leader had removed it and was now pacing toward the humans and Autobots clustered around their fallen Prime, the artifact held loosely in his grasp. He came to a stop when they leveled their weapons at him, and smirked at their futile attempts to stop the inevitable. When he again took a step forward, Ratchet snapped, "No further, Megatron, or we'll gun you down!"_

_The Decepticon leader cocked his head, smirk widening enough to let his fangs slide over his lower lip plates. "Oh, really?" He took another step forward, but this time a strange blackness peeled from his body, letting the now-empty shell fall to the ground. The darkness, the shadowy mist wove and writhed and formed itself into a cross between an angel and a dragon, its glowing red optics gazing out at them from its shadow self. __**"You and what army?"**__ the Seirein asked as it took another step forward, the humans skittering back in revulsion for the strange entity before them, the Cybertronians recoiling in utter horror. Too fast to see, Megatron lunged forward, hand already buried in the medic's chestplates, and he tore out the mech's spark with no more effort than a human waving a stick through the air. The Decepticons leapt from their positions and instantly began fighting over who would get to devour the spark while Megatron spun to kill Ironhide, cutting him in half at the waist, tossing the upper half at his soldiers. Jolt and the Twins jumped at him while Arcee and Sideswipe evacked the humans, but they, too, met the same fate as the First Team._

_Megatron flexed his wings as he stepped over to Optimus' body, the Matrix still in his grasp, and he just touched it to the Prime's open spark chamber._

_Of course, that one touch was all it took._

_The last Prime unshuttered his optics to see the terrible Cybertronian above him, wings outstretched, backlit by the dying star, and knew it was over._

* * *

They were monsters, that much was certain.

They hunted the living and dwelled among the dead, hiding in forgotten cities below the surface, where one would have to have a death wish to go, even at "high noon." They were never far from where people worked, where their children played, where even the unsavory characters of Cybertron's underbelly did their worst. They prowled the shadowed alleys in Cybertron's perpetual night, luring their prey in with their unnatural beauty before devouring their sparks, their very souls, when the prey was least aware of the danger.

Such had been the fates of Sideswipe and Arcee, he knew that much.

Some mortals called them Sirens for their beauty and ability to seduce their prey, to use their powers of illusion and their terribly beautiful voices to drag them willingly into the darkness. Others called them Demons for their seeming shape shifting and "teleportation" from shadow to shadow all over the planet – and off it. He knew better, though, and found that he much preferred the human word for the subjects of the Kingdom of the Night.

Vampire.

It suited them perfectly. "One who, in the act of living, continued to take life." How was it that the humans had come up with this word, this perfect descriptor, before them? Perhaps the rumors of the Cybertronian vampires – _Seirein_, they called themselves – going to Earth and blending in with the locals, feeding off them rather than Cybertronians… perhaps the rumors were not so far-fetched after all. They certainly were long-lived enough; their name for their race was derived from the Cybertronian word _eien_, which was Ancient for _immortal_.

"Reminiscing again, Prime?"

Optimus had long-since ceased being surprised at the Serenic Emperor's sudden appearances and disappearances; it was inevitable that such things should happen with their extreme speed, their "haste." Especially when all one was permitted to interact with were these unnatural monsters. They were not native to the universe; born from a Concilliar experiment to create the perfect soldier, their bodies had been incapable of producing enough energy to sustain all of their abilities at peak capacity for long periods of time, and as such the first models had shut down swiftly and permanently. And after the first Seirein – the present Emperor – discovered that devouring the sparks of mortals provided the energy needed to prevent them from falling into permanent stasis lock, well…

Let's just say it all went downhill from there.

Optimus turned to face the vampire reclining on the berth like some kind of Earth feline; so beautiful and yet so deadly. "There is little else for me to do," he said, answering the immortal's earlier inquiry, "I have read all of the datapads in this room, and you never bring anything new in for me to entertain myself while you are gone –"

"Ask, and you will receive, pet."

The Prime gritted his dentaplates and said nothing. He hated being reminded of his failures. The first: Samuel Witwicky's death and the subsequent capture of the Allspark. If he had been swifter, stronger, Sam would not have died, and he would not be where he was now. The second: his inability to stop the Fallen and the Sun Harvester. It was only afterward, after the Fallen had been devoured by the Seirein, after the Earth had been plunged into eternal night, did the Serenic Emperor bring him back to life using he Matrix of Leadership. And now a third: both of those most valuable artifacts were in Decepticon – and by association, Seirein – hands.

"Of course," he ground out finally, "this would require me to give you something in return."

"Equivalent exchange, lovely." The vampire grinned at him, all lethal capability and fangs, sprawled on the berth like one of the humans' "throw rugs."

Optimus' face plates wrinkled in disgust. "I know that the silicon in the datapads," he hissed, "is especially valuable right now, momentarily disorganized as the mines are, and the mineral is worth a hundred times its weight in gold – platinum, even. No."

"Oh, come now, pet," the vampire sneered, "Not even a single kiss to alleviate your boredom?" His grin widened when Optimus visibly recoiled.

"I'd rather be tossed into the Smelter alive," he snarled, and the vampire was suddenly right in front of him, close enough that he could feel the cold exhales of the mech's dead body brushing across his face, the other's much taller frame looming ominously over his own.

"That can be arranged, Little Prime," Megatron whispered dangerously, then snared Optimus dentaplates in a fierce and proprietary human kiss, displaying his dominance in the way his frame seemed to almost wrap around his "brother's," the way he was able to effortlessly force the mech to submit to his much more powerful form, despite the fact that Primes were the strongest of the strong. It was not for nothing that Optimus' very name meant "the best of the best."

However, even he was no match for the dead alive, their unnatural abilities supposedly given to them through a pact with the Dark One himself, Unicron, the Devourer of Worlds. Megatron pressed him back onto the berth with so little effort it was almost embarrassing, the Prime having not even notice when the Decepticon spun him around and walked him backwards until the backs of his legs where touching the berth's side. The Seeker was already on top of him, frame vibrating gently in the throes of a low, rumbling purr that sent pleasurable shivers down the still-living mech's spinal struts, the beginnings of aroused heat working their way out into his body from his suddenly burning spark. A fanged grin was the tyrant's reply to his increased sensitivity to the warmth of another's frame, and he leaned down to nuzzle the other's neck, ignoring the way the Prime tried to bite him.

"Ah, ah, ah," he purred in amusement, running his hands along the mech's sides, "You know what happens to those who take parts of Seirein into themselves. They become one of us." Optimus shivered when Megatron's actions touched all of the sensitive transformation seams in his sides, setting off flickers of unwilling pleasure in his circuits. "And you have not the experience to defeat me in this, just as I suspect you cannot resist." The Seeker dipped his head, tracing his glossa along one of the most sensitive cables of his neck, and the Prime was lost.

* * *

Megacycles later, Megatron finally rolled from the berth, heaving his immense body to its pedes, the plating over his undead spark shifting back to cover his life force, and he turned back slightly to glance at the mech still collapsed on the foam-covered metal. Optimus was panting heavily, his body forced to rely on air intake to help cool his systems from almost critical heat levels, now that he no longer had the Seirein's icy body to help. His chest plates were still open, baring his sky blue-streaked white spark to the room, the light from it casting odd shadows in the otherwise dimly lit living space. There were some dents and scrapes in his plating from where the vampire had been a little too rough with the much weaker and more fragile Cybertronian, but there were no potentially fatal rents in his body that could be immediately seen.

The Seeker smirked and turned away, heading for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Hook will be in to check you over in a few breems. Tomorrow I will leave you in the Library of Iacon, under Shockwave's capable watch." Optimus caught the subtle threat of, "Flee, and I will kill one prisoner for each day that you are gone."

The Prime lowered his head as the Decepticon left the room, trying to will his chest plates closed. Yet, for the fact that what he had just done was the most terrible thing he had _ever_ done, for the fact that he should be feeling more ashamed than ever before, for the fact that he should be making up excuses to explain what he had been doing with the other for the past megacycles, Optimus could not get up the force of will to feel anything other than almost unbearable satiation, the last aftershocks of overload racing through his frame, and he dropped into an exhausted recharge just as the doors opened to admit the Decepticon medic.


End file.
